The Boy Who Sees
by CakeTops
Summary: After becoming MOD, Harry discovers that he gained the ability to see/talk to spirits. For some, that wouldn't be too bad, but for an elite soldier like Harry, living in a magical London that has only recently seen the end of a great war, it's something akin to slow torture. Thus, Harry takes a little vacation. He chooses Japan and wishes he hadn't when he meets Shinichi Kudo.
1. Prologue

**Summary** : After taking up the mantle of Master of Death, Harry discovered, much to his horror, that he now had the ability to see and talk to spirits that has yet to pass on. For normal people, that wouldn't be too bad, but for an elite soldier like Harry, living in a magical London that had, only recently, seen the end of a great war, it was something akin to slow torture. Thus, Harry packed up his bags and traveled to the other side of the world, in hopes for a normal life. Chance led him to choosing Japan and meeting Shinichi Kuro was starting to make him regret it.

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **A New Chapter**

* * *

If you were to ask Harry – and not many would in all honesty – the dead International Magical Cooperation Department employee was the last straw.

His name was Jeremy, Jeremy Stevenson and he was only 25 - still full of energy and hope for the future - when he was killed by a Death Eater - whose name he hadn't even known - as he was trying to stop a colleague from bleeding out. He didn't regret his heroism, he had told Harry, his semi-transparent eyes blazing with conviction, his fists tight by his side, even if, deep down, he had known, at that time, that he could have saved himself if he had simply let the guy die and run away. He didn't regret his choices, he had repeated, voice determined, and has even come to accept that he was no longer part of this world. The only thing he did regret was the fight he had with his wife the morning of his departure and not having been able to tell her how much he loved her before leaving.

So…

"Please, please," Jeremy implored, hanging on to Harry's shirt with both hands and nearly on the verge of tears, "Please help me tell my beloved that I am sorry for what I had said, that she was right and that she deserved so much more then what I had given her."

Harry J Potter let out a tired sigh and passed a hand through his unkempt locks. With his wrinkled shirt and panda-eyes, he looked more like a university student during Finals week then a great war hero venerated by millions of witches and wizards around the world.

"I will try," he agreed, as he did every time someone – some spirit, to be more precise - came to him with this sort of request. He will try because he could do nothing less. After all, it was, in a twisted sort of way, his duty as a survivor, to do everything in his power to help those souls who have perished to pass on, to see their last wish fulfilled so they can be freed from the tether that was preventing them from reaching the afterlife.

Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulder.

"I will."

He passed on the message of course after contacting Jeremy's wife and asking her to meet him in his office. He told her all Jeremy had asked him to say, assured her that her husband had regretted not having been able to talk to her before leaving, but the grief-stricken widow, desperate for a place to vent her anger, hadn't believed a word he had said and had spent the 20 minutes of their meeting calling him an insensitive bastard for trying to manipulate her feelings.

Harry wasn't surprised. Even in a world of magic, the concept of being able to communicate with the other side was still difficult to accept. Most people see death as the final frontier, one that no one can cross and come back. When you have people like Harry, people who told you that they could see spirits, your first reaction would be to call him a liar.

Jeremy's wife was like everyone else.

She thought Harry was a sham, trying to use her for his personal gain.

Harry, selfless as he was, finally had enough. His sense of loyalty and responsibility for his country and community could only do so much. The young wizard knew that, for the sake of his sanity and future wellbeing, he had to leave this place…at least for a while.

As a wise man had once said, life was a bit like a book; there was a beginning and an end, an in between, there are chapters that catapulted you from one event to another.

Today, Harry decided, was the end of one chapter in the Book of Harry Potter.

It was time to start a new one.

* * *

For someone of Harry's standing, leaving wasn't as simple as deciding to leave, packing up his bags and disappearing in to the wild. Doing so would only bring chaos, something that could be detrimental to the future stability of a magical community still in the process of rebuilding in the aftermath of a great War.

No, leaving meant days upon days or even weeks upon weeks of careful planning before anything could be carried out. Luckily for Harry, he had an ally in Ron whose brother Percy was only too happy to help Harry out, as repayment for the many things Harry had done for the Weasley family over the years. And with both Ron and Percy around to carry Harry's burden, by the end of July, two weeks after the Stevenson incident – as Harry had started to call it – he was ready to embark on his next big adventure.

Before leaving though, there was an unexpected obstacle that Harry had not foreseen…

Hermione.

Hermione, along with a few other agents, were sent to France to retrieve a few wayward Death Eaters and had only recently returned to London. Upon returning, she immeidietly found out about Harry's imminent departure and was not too happy for it. Thus, the night before Harry's departure, Hermione stormed in to Harry's condo, her hair a mess and her eyes blazing, demanding an answer.

If it was anyone else acting this way, Harry would have kicked them out in the blink of an eye. But since this was Hermione, the girl who had trained with him since young and stood by him no matter what, he decided to make the effort to make her understand.

Sitting next to Hermione on the leather clad sofa, a cup of steaming black tea in hand, Harry took a few moments to gather his thoughts before admitting:

"I'm tired Mione."

He sighed, running a free hand through his hair, making it even messier then before.

"I'm tired of the screaming fans, the overzealous media and the scheming politicians. I'm tired of those who still think that I am merely a tool to be used and then discarded, that they have the right to make me follow their every command. The war is over; I did my part. It's time for me to take some time for myself and be selfish for once."

He paused slightly, his eyes closed tight, almost as if he was trying to shut the outside world out.

"Do you see Hermione?"

He wanted Hermione to understand; for one of his best friend, for the girl he saw as his sister, to understand that this decision hadn't been easy for him to make but was necessary nonetheless.

Britain, no matter what, was his home and would always, in some way, be. Everyone he knew and loved were here but that didn't mean staying was what was best for him.

After a few seconds of deliberation - during which Hermione miraculously chose to stay silent - Harry spoke again, his tone unwavering and determined.

"When we were still in conflict, I couldn't think of myself; I was the leader, the prophesied hero. I couldn't run away even if, most of the time, I was scared shitless. I couldn't run because I had a duty to stay. After all, I was the one who had been trained since practically birth to capture or kill. Can you imagine a toddler being taught how to dissemble and reassemble a riffle? I can because that was my reality back then.

As a child, I couldn't cry, couldn't yell, couldn't do anything a normal child could do. I had to be strong because I was told, since the very beginning, that showing even one ounce of weakness while in action could mean death for me, my comrades or innocent bystanders. I had to stay focused for the sake of everyone I have been tasked to protect."

"Harry…" Hermione's back hunched, all her previous anger dissipated. And at that moment, she no longer looked like a fearless soldier but a confused young woman whose world view was starting to shake. "Harry…I…"

Hermione bit her lips, unsure of what to say in order to comfort him.

Harry laughed.

It wasn't a nice sound.

"I'm not looking for pity nor am I looking for your concern," he reassured her, still not looking at her, his eyes focused instead on the Potter Crest engraved in the lid of the trunk laid at his feet, "I don't regret my choices and would have done exactly the same if given a second chance. I just want you to understand that I'm tired of this box everyone insists on keeping me in."

He took another deep breath, almost as if he was fortifying himself for his next words.

"The war is over; I no longer want to be your hero."

Hermione didn't react at that - much to Harry's surprised - and maintained her silence. A few minutes passed and just as Harry was starting to wonder if she had left without him knowing – she was one of the only people Harry knew that could do that without breaking a sweat – she spoke.

"You are my best friend Harry."

She put her arms around him, drawing him for an improvised hug, a simple action that sent tendrils of warms through Harry.

Hermione, for reasons much too numerous to list, was not a tactile person. Even with Harry, hugging was something she had only done twice before; the first time he had failed a mission and was berating himself in his room and the first time he had seen a fellow soldier die in front of him and had nightmares replaying that very event. Both times, she had taken time out of her busy schedule to sit with Harry and put her arms around him in a gesture of solidarity and comfort.

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry replied, grateful for her existence. "I won't forget you. I can't forget you."

Hermione shook her head in amusement.

"We've gone through too much for you to forget me."

She let go and stood up.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Where are you going?"

"Japan."

Hermione blinked at him.

"Why there?"

Harry was a little embarrassed as he replied.

"As someone who has never even been outside of Britain before, choosing a destination for this little getaway involved less planning and careful research and more throwing a dart at a world map and see where it landed. And well…"

Harry shrugged.

"It landed on Japan."

This startled a laugh out of Hermione.

* * *

Harry hadn't lied to Hermione when he had told her that his choice of destination was product of chance. Sure, a part of Harry had wanted more planning to go in to this decision, but another part of him – the part that had finally won out in the end - wanted to leave everything up to Fate. Which led, of course, to dart throwing. And when the dart had landed on Japan, Harry found nothing wrong with the choice so simply went with it. Language wasn't a problem when he had magic, so why not go experience a new culture?

Harry, needless to say, didn't know much about Japan. The only things he did know about that country came from his meeting with the then-Japanese Minister of Magic, but now retired, Sora Hiroshi, a few years ago, at a time when Voldemort was at the pinnacle of his powers, his name almost universally known among all wizards and witches, no matter the nationality. Unsurprisingly, that particular meeting had been more focused on military strategies to counter Voldemort's plans to expand outside of Britain then anything else so any information he has obtained wasn't really useful in his current situation.

Luckily for Harry, his relationship with Hiroshi hadn't ended then. For numerous reasons, Harry had made sure to be on friendly terms with all world leaders - magical or otherwise - but Hiroshi, along with the muggle Minister Taro Abe, were still among his closest friends. Thus, Harry hadn't hesitated much when he gave Hiroshi a call.

Mr. Hiroshi grew up in Beika City with his two brothers but moved to Tokyo when he became Minister of Magic. His two brothers still lived in Beika though and the older one, Riku, one of the only two wizards of the family, the third brother being a squib, was Harry's fan and was over the moon when told about Harry's imminent arrival. He convinced Harry to move to Beika and assured him that Beika was as normal as it can be. Harry agreed because Beika was, according to Riku, extremely unpopular with wizarding folk for some reason, so most people living there were muggles.

"Harry, what do you want to do in Japan?" Riku asked after the location has been decided.

"I still haven't decided," Harry admitted, shrugging on reflex. He had wanted to experience life as a normal teenager but wasn't sure where to begin.

"How about signing up for high school?" Riku suggested, "I think experiencing high school life would be interesting as that is something most teenagers need to go through."

It was a good suggestion, Harry decided, but…

"I have never had a formal muggle education before," he admitted, for the last muggle education he had was still back in grade school. He doubted that would help him much in high school. "Will I be able to keep up?"

He didn't think embarrassing himself on a daily basis would be his idea of an enjoyable pastime.

Riku didn't seem to see this as a problem.

"Just use memory potions to remember the basic stuff and you'll be fine," he told him, unconcerned, as his brother cried cheater in the background, making sure to say the word in English. Riku ignored him with practiced ease as he continued, "You'll never be first in the class, but you won't fall behind either."

Harry agreed in the end because experiencing life as a normal student did sound interesting.

Afterwards, Riku helped Harry contact Teitan High and signed him up as a transfer student. Harry didn't ask how Riku had managed to convince the school to accept him when he had no previous educational background - grade school probably didn't count much, but the young man knew it probably involved monetary bribes in some way.

Some things were better left unsaid.

* * *

And just like that, Harry James Potter, finally gathered up the courage to leave everything he knew behind and head to a brand new country in order to start a new chapter in his life, a, Harry hoped, much less fantastical and much more normal chapter.

Too bad Fate had other plans in store.

TBC.


	2. The Cursed Detective

**Vision One**

 **The Cursed Detective**

* * *

Life outside war was like an entirely different world; a world with no combatants, only civilians, doing everyday things like going to work, going shopping or gossiping at the side of the road. It felt almost liberating being here, the young wizard decided, like a prisoner seeing the light for the first time in Merlin knows how long.

Sitting at a bus stop a few meters away from his new residence in Beika - a single family house with a one-car garage and a quint little back garden - Harry let out a long-satisfied sigh, leaning back in the plastic covered seat, closing his eyes and enjoying the warm caress of the early-morning sun.

 _Coming here was a great decision_ , he thought with a soft smile tugging at his lips, he could already feel his burdens slowly starting to fade away.

"Oh…hey!" Someone suddenly said, interrupting his daydream.

Harry blinked, a little surprised, not because the other's presence had startled him – he had long since detected that he wasn't alone; he was an elite soldier after all - but because the other had actually chosen to speak up. Harry wasn't used to random strangers - unless they were fans but Harry doubted this one was - talking to him out of the blue, unless they wanted something from him.

Still a little confused as to who this person was and what she - for it was indeed a female voice - wanted, Harry turned his head upwards towards the speaker and the sweet smiling face of a 16 years old girl appeared in his field of vision. Her hair was short, cut just above her shoulders and her school uniform was of the same design as his, suggesting that she too went to Teitan High. This wasn't much of a coincidence considering how the bus Harry was waiting for was a bus that took students directly to Teitan High.

"Hello," Harry replied politely as he mentally analyzed her every move, reading her body language for clues like he was used to doing on the battleground.

Compressed lips, Right hand playing with a strand of hair, tensed shoulders - all signs leading to the conclusion that she was nervous.

"Are you a new student? I'm Aiko." she continued, her body relaxing a little now that Harry hadn't simply ignored her and went back to his dozing. A part of Harry had wanted to but that would be too rude, so he forced his desires back down and offered the girl a media-ready smile.

Upon seeing that smile, the girl finally let herself go and, without further invitation, took the seat next to Harry, immeidietly starting to babble on without waiting for an answer to her question, with an eagerness that would make one think that Harry was her best friend and not someone she had just met a few seconds ago.

"I'm new too. I had a little bit of an issue at my old school so was forced to transfer in the middle of the semester. My brother goes to this school too. He's on the soccer team. I'm a little nervous about my first day but my brother assured me that everyone at Teitan High is extremely welcoming so I hope...

Her words fell like an unstoppable torrent of water and all Harry could do was listen and nod at times to show he was still paying attention. And as he listened, Harry couldn't help but starting to stare at her in wonderment, as if she was an animal he was here to observe.

 _Was "this" what normal girls were like?_ He thought to himself.

Harry had met girls before of course, but they were, in his opinion, far from normal. They were soldiers, product of the system, trained since young to kill or be killed - like Ginny Weasley, who, by 11, could already brew up 20 different types of poison that could end your life without leaving a trace - to protect the innocent and fight for the greater good.

The closest female friend that Harry had was, unsurprisingly, Hermione Granger. Hermione was a muggle-born, one of the few muggle-borns to be recruited as the higher ups still had a bias against those not born in to magic and was only told about it once their Hogwarts letter had arrived.

Hermione, like most muggle-borns - Harry being an outlier as he was the prophesied hero and was, thus, trained since he was old enough to pronounce words without messing up - was 11 when she was told that magic existed and entered Hogwarts with ideals of a perfect world. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for reality to crush all those ideals and turn her in to the over analytical and rather cynical adult she was today.

Hermione's first year at Hogwarts was quite normal by Harry's standards, but her success had brought her some attention from the higher ups. Even Harry, whose affinity for magic astounded all who met him, had to admit that Hermione's prodigious mind and almost inhuman memory were second to none. By the time she was 12, she had officially been recruited in to the "child soldier" program - definitely illegal but desperate times called for desperate measures - and was officially sent to train as a soldier; sent to train on how to use magic offensively.

She was 15 when she made her first kill - severing a Death Eater's head with an overpowered cutting curse - and was never the same again.

From what Harry remembered of her, Hermione didn't babble. In fact, in his memory, she didn't even talk that much outside of missions. She liked to believe that her words should be reserved for special occasions, where words were a necessary evil - other wise, action was the best solution. Her abnormal school experience ruined whatever social lessons her parents had drilled in to her before Hogwarts and her superior intellect made her an outcast among her peers. Hermione had never seemed to mind though, because in her head, she was from a different world then these people. Like Harry, she was a soldier, a system-manufactured killing machine, set out to complete her objective and nothing else. Hermione was used to speaking with purpose; chit-chatting was almost unthinkable.

Growing up in that environment, that was the type of girl Harry was used to. Seeing an entirely new specimen in Aiko was like seeing an entire new world for the first time.

"By the way, what's your name?

Harry blinked back to reality, realizing that his mind had wondered off a little as Aiko had went on, unable to keep up with this rate of conversation; that was to be expected however for in the past, the most anyone had spoken to him was during mission briefings and debriefings - but in that situation, it was usually him who did all the talking.

Next to him, Aiko had tensed up again, looking a little nervous, an embarrassed smile tugging at her lips. She was probably finally aware of just how long she had babbled on without giving Harry a chance to interrupt.

"I'm Potter Harry," Harry introduced himself and offered a hand for her to shake. He smiled reasuringly, showing her that he wasn't annoyed with her. In fact, Harry was even a little glad that Aiko had taken the lead in this conversation. If it was up to him, the conversation would have stalled in its infancy. He truly had no experience talking to civilians his own age and he doubted Aiko would want to hear about torture techniques or the best way to dispose of a body efficiently and without leaving a mess.

"Nice to meet you Harry - you don't mind me calling you Harry right?" Aiko reached out a hand and grabbed Harry's in a firm handshake, "What year will you be in Harry?"

"I'm 17 so I'll be a senior." Harry thought back to his admission papers."

In all honesty, 17 was only his registered age as 19 was his real age. Since Harry looked younger then 19, no one was the wiser.

"You'll be in my grade then," Aiko beamed at him, "Since we don't know many people at school, we should eat lunch together sometimes."

Harry agreed, not seeing any reason not to. Aiko seemed nice and a ready-available friend made it easier for Harry to pretend he wasn't a loner at heart.

"Do you have any clubs you want to join?"

"Clubs?" Harry thought for a second. "You mean extracurricular activities."

"Yes, yes, that," Aiko nodded.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied in the tone of someone who had never joined a club before or participated in any student-organized activity for that matter. "What about you?"

Aiko grinned.

"The Detective Club," she replied excitedly, "My brother's best friend is the Head. He's got a great mind for that stuff. Sure, compared to Kudo Shinichi, the well-known Sherlock Holmes of the 20th Century, he's nothing to look at but not everyone can be Kudo."

"Holmes of 20th Century?" Harry repeated in confusion. He knew who Sherlock Holmes was of course - Harry's training had included lessons in muggle culture from around the world - but he didn't see how this fictional character could be linked to this Kudo person.

"Yes," Aiko's eyes were sparkling with giddiness as she continued, "The modern day Sherlock Holmes. I'm surprised you haven't heard about him before."

"I just got in to this country," Harry explained, a little embarrassed. He had only recently arrived in Japan and the first days after his arrival had been dedicated to acclimating himself to this new environment.

"That makes sense," Aiko nodded, "After all, Kudo Shinichi is the best. Everyone whose anyone knows about him. He's everywhere. You just have to read a newspaper to know."

"Oh?"

"He's a prodigy you know," Aiko went on, her voice full of respect and awe for Kudo, "People call him the Savior of the Japanese Police force for a reason. He may be just a high school detective, but he has cracked many cases in the past; cases that even police detectives couldn't make head or tails of."

"Many cases?" Harry was intrigued. He had never heard of a detective who was still in high school before. That sounded like something right out of a novel. Although, deep down, he probably had no right to speak considering how young he was when he obtained a commanding officer position in the army. That was probably more shocking then a simple high school-aged detective. "How many?"

"150," the girl replied and Harry nodded, a little impressed.

"15, not bad."

"Not 15," the girl said, shaking her head so hard she was probably getting whip splash from her own hair, "150. One Five Zero."

Harry's eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open without his knowledge.

"Excuse me?" he gaped, wondering if the girl was messing with him. She didn't look like the type to mess with people for fun but one never really knew with teenagers. "Did you say 150? Does the police call him in on cases?"

"No," Aiko said, tilting her head to the side in thought, "I think in a past interview he mentioned that he stumbled upon them by accident. Most of them were murder cases too."

A moment of silence fell between them.

"Let me get this straight," Harry finally broke the silence, all his attention now focused on Aiko, "This detective you speak of stumbled upon almost 150 murder cases in the past year."

Aiko nodded, looking as if all that was absolutely normal and nothing to be suspicious of. Was "this" also what normal girls were like? Harry thought, his mind a mess, Not blinking an eye at murder? Or was Aiko simply abnormal?

He really didn't know.

"Do all detectives stumble upon so many murder cases?" Harry couldn't help but ask, wondering if Japan's crime rate was something he should be worried about.

"I think it's only Kudo," Aiko replied, "At least in this part of the city. It's okay though because Kudo is the Greatest Detective to ever live."

Greatest Detective? Harry thought internally, rolling his eyes, More like Cursed Detective.

Harry had, many times in the past, cursed the Potter Luck - the kind of luck that could turn a simple trip to the shops in to a heart stopping chase through the city - and had wondered why his ancestors hadn't tried to find a magical solution to this very real and very life-threatening problem. But after hearing about Kudo and his Death God ways, Harry realized that compared to this boy, he was nothing.

Harry knew from research - why he would do such research was a topic for another day - that most people would go their entire life without encountering a killer. What kind of luck could lead a boy of only 17 to encounter nearly 150 of them in the past year? That was simply statistically and probabilistically impossible...unless probability or statistic simply didn't apply to him.

If Hermione knew about this, she would probably be extremely interested.

Harry wondered if he should tell her about this Cursed Detective and ask her if she had any idea on how to alleviate this kid's problems. He didn't think that having people dropping like flies wherever you went was good for Kudo's future mental well being - unless he was a psychopath and enjoyed such things of course. As for Harry, just thinking of an existence like that sent shivers down his spine. Sure, he had killed in the past, but killing on the battle field was entirely different then killing outside of it. On the battlefield, you had to maintain a kill or be killed mentality in order to survive, even if killing another human being made you sick in the stomach. Killing outside of battle however implied that you wanted to kill and probably enjoyed the process.

That made things infinitely more twisted.

Harry let out a small sigh.

"By the way," he asked, a sudden thought crossing his mind, causing his breath to catch in his throat, "What school does he go to?"

Please don't say Teitan High. Please don't say Teitan High...Harry repeated in his mind, repeating those words like a prayer. And since Harry was cursed since the very beginning, cursed to be Fate's plaything, the answer could be none of then…

"Teitan High," Aiko grinned. "According to my brother, he's in 2-A."

Bloody hell.

Harry wanted to tear his hair out.

Before Harry couldn't say anything else though, like ask Aiko if it was possible to choose your own homeroom, the bus arrived, putting an end to all possible conversation.

Almost in a daze, Harry followed Aiko in to the vehicle and took a seat on the second row, near the window.

Like any good operative, Harry had a plan; a plan that was to ensure that this new chapter in his life was going to be boring and predictable for all involved. Harry's explosive days of running after hardened criminal were over. And he wasn't going to let another's unfortunate curse mess up his plan.

Harry's new chapter was obviously not up to an auspicious start. He was suddenly starting to regret choosing Japan after all.

TBC.


End file.
